


It's Your Final Hour

by Daryl_Grimes (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Series: It's Your Final Hour Saga [1]
Category: Final Destination (Movies), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Destination, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Final Destination AU, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5346035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Daryl_Grimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Final Destination AU</em> </p><p>Daryl thought a drive through Kentucky to his Uncle's house with his brother would be boring, at least, until the vision of a high way pile up haunts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Click Click Boom

Daryl drove silently down the highway, one elbow leaned on the window, hand supporting a cigarette in his mouth, where as the other hand lazily steered the truck he was driving. His brother was in the seat next to him, snorting coke off his hand and Daryl rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, can’t yer fucking wait till we get to the damn motel?”

“Nah.”

“Yer gonna get us pulled over and I ain’t bailing yer out the prison.”

“Yea, yer’ll bail me out.”

Daryl glared at his brother before moving the hand with his cigarette to hold the steering wheel. He jammed the radio on, frowning a little at the news story. Some plane crash, some more dead people. With a roll of his eyes, he jabbed the button, changing the channel.

“Put on Radio 616, bro, let’s have some rock for this road trip.” Merle leant out the window, screaming and Daryl leaned over, forcefully tugging him back in.

“Fucking watch it. Papa will murder me if yer get yer fucking head ripped off by a passing car or bike when I’m driving. I’m not meant to be driving this damn truck, remember? I’m only driving because yer wanted t’get high.”

“Relax, Daryl. Yer such a fucking crybaby.”

“I’d rather we both got their alive.”

The two brothers glared at each other before Daryl pulled over, waiting for a stop light to go green. He sighed and leaned back, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and closing his eyes.

“Still don’t see why I gotta come with yer to stay with Uncle Jesse anyway.”

“Because yer got kicked out o’school and Dad’s busy.”

“Ya mean he’s screwing drunk whores.” Daryl snorted, pulling another cigarette out the pack, lighting it. He inhaled the smoke and held it in his lungs, feeling the familiar relaxing sensation flooding his body.

Glancing in the rear view mirror, he stared at the people in the car behind him – two blonde women, probably sisters. They seemed about the same age as he and Merle. There was a motorbike to the side of him, a black woman, long dreads sliding down her back. She seemed more preoccupied with tapping her watch than she was with the traffic.

Glancing back again, Daryl choked on the smoke in his lungs. “Hide yer fucking drugs.”

A state trooper was two cars back, two officers inside, one of them leaning out their window.

_Fucking skinhead pig._

Daryl snorted and turned his attention back to the lights in front of him. He took another much needed drag on his cigarette before he hit the gas, letting the truck lurch forward.

He took another drag on the cigarette, giving a nervous glance to the radio as the familiar sounds of Dope filled his hearing, shuddering as _Die MF Die_ began playing through the car. His hand surged forward, hitting the off button.

“The fuck?”

“Let me just focus. First year o’ driving and we’re on a fucking highway.”

He glanced out the window, more nerves hitting him as he saw a large 18-wheeler go shooting past next to him, making him withdraw his elbow from the open window where it rested.

“Jesus, Darl, yer all jumpy.”

“Not confident.”

“Get over it, yer a Dixon, ya pussy.”

The younger glared at his brother for the smallest moment before sighing, leaning back in his seat.

Before he lurched forward, watching a school bus full of teenagers speeding by, all en board yelling _pile up, pile up!_

Dread splashed over him as though he had just been dipped into a freezing ice bath. The hairs on his arm and on the back of his neck were sticking up and Daryl forgot how to breathe.

“Jeez, Daryl, yer alright? You just lost a couple shades o’colour in yer face.”

“I’m fi-”

The loud screech of juddering, ripping metal cut him off and Daryl’s eyes widened as he saw the 18-wheeler overturn.

The motorbike in front of him surged around the wheel that flew off, coming off of her bike. The car to his left disappeared from his vision in a mass of flames. He turned the wheel hard, feeling the truck roll.

“DARYL!”

Daryl had to shut his eyes, screaming as his hand reached out, clinging to his brother’s shirt. His head hit the metal frame of the car, and pain exploded around Daryl’s head. His vision went white, and all he could hear was ringing.

The rolling stopped and Daryl dared to open his eyes, just in time to see the police cruiser blow up. The officer that had been thrown from the car was merely laying panting, his brown hair bloody and messed up, before he disappeared from view, a large van slamming him out the way.

Daryl yelled out again and he glanced around. The truck was on the left side, meaning, if Daryl wanted out, Merle had to get out first.

“Merle. Merle, we have to get out, the truck’s gonna blow.”

Shaking his brother again, he saw the large blood spatter on the side of the car, the glazed over eyes of his brother and he screamed again, shaking his brother’s arm. “MERLE WAKE UP MERLE COME ON.”

“HELP ME!”

Daryl stared out the window at a man by a flaming pizza delivery car, jacket stuck in the door. “Help me!”

The explosion of the car rocked the truck and Daryl sobbed, covering his mouth as he stared at one of the shoes the man had been wearing.

It was eerily silent as Daryl stared out at the wreckage of about 18 cars, numerous trucks, even the damn motorbike.

A sob escaped him as he moved to fully smash the front windscreen. His shaking hands moved to unbuckle his seatbelt, only to frown when he found it was jammed.

“The fuck.”

Scraping metal caught his attention and Daryl looked up, only to scream to see the 18-wheeler speeding towards him.

xox

“Darl!”

Daryl shot forward, taking a huge gasp of air and glancing around the car.

“Jeez, Daryl, you’re pale as hell. Seen a ghost?”

Desperately trying to control his breathing, Daryl lurched forward to turn the radio on, trying to relax.

 _Just a bad vision, or day dream, or fucking nightmare, relax Dixon_.

He frowned at the familiar sound of a news broadcast, only to stare at his brother in horror.

“Put on Radio 616, bro, let’s have some rock for this road trip.”  
“Put on Radio 616, bro, let’s have some rock for this road trip.”

Merle stared at Daryl with a raised brow as they said it at the same time. He jammed the button, slowly forgetting how to breathe when Dope began blaring through the truck.

“There’s gonna be a crash.”

“The fuck yer on about?”

The school bus went by and Daryl flinched at the noise of the teens on board.

“There’s gonna be a fucking crash. We all die...”

“Jeez yer really are a nervous fucking driver.”

The sound of the car behind him blaring their horn had him turning around. Two blonde sisters were raising their hands behind him in frustration. The police cruiser was behind them.

Sitting forward, Daryl stared at the green light ahead. He had to do something.

Gritting his teeth, he began to drive, only to swerve and block the exit off for everyone. Horns blared immediately and Daryl’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. The leather felt too hot against his hands, and the male squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jesus, Daryl the fuck ya doing... why are yer crying? Daryl come on it was just a bad dream- FUCK cops coming up now look what yer done.”

Daryl shakily looked up, staring at dark blue eyes, screaming with disapproval underneath a sheriff hat.

“Sir, what’s going on?”

“There’s gonna be a crash, a real bad one, I... I _saw_ it.”

“Step out the vehicle please, Sir.”

Daryl slowly got out the vehicle, almost stumbling as the blood rushed from his head. The officer’s hands were on his side immediately, helping to steady him.

“Sir, have you taken any drugs in the last few hours?”

Daryl couldn’t answer, staring at the large 18 wheeler that flew by them.

“T-That’s the truck. You gotta stop it, that’s the truck that’s gonna crash!”

The officer frowned and glanced at the car, his partner half out the car. A woman and child were talking to him, glancing with a frown at the officer talking to Daryl.

“Alright, Sir, I really don’t appreciate you scaring my pregnant wife and child, nor do I appreciate that you’re scaring everyone else on this intersection, so, you’re going to get in your truck and you’re going to drive on down that highway, or we’re going to be forced to take you in. Is that clear?”

“Daryl get back in the fucking truck.”

Daryl glanced at Merle before back at the officer. He opened his mouth, only for his words to be drowned out by the screech of metal and the sound of an explosion.

No one moved, everyone just stared at the flames further down the road in disbelief. Daryl wasn’t sure if he could stand. Dread was echoing around his body and he wasn’t entirely sure if his heart was still beating.

Suddenly, he was on the ground, and the sound of crunching metal was much closer. Arms were tight around him and Daryl slowly dared to sit up, only to scream, seeing the truck crushed against the intersection wall by a van and he had to force himself up, running towards it.

The other officer grabbed him, pulling him back and forcing him to the ground.

“MERLE! MERLE, NO!”

The floor came to meet Daryl as sound drifted away from him, blackness taking over his vision.


	2. Haunted

Daryl stared at his shaking hands as he sat in the dark room. He could feel the eyes of officers behind the two-way glass in front of him. The sound of two women complaining; probably the sister’s; another two female voices, which was probably the woman on the motorbike and the pregnant woman he had seen last night. A young voice – that was more than likely the kid with the woman – and the male voice filtering through his head had to be the delivery boy.

Complaints about being late, complaints about missing family, complaints about just wanting to leave.

Tears welled in Daryl’s eyes as he stared at the watch on his wrist, the one Merle had given him for his twentieth birthday. Staring up at the glass, he cleared his throat, taking a breath of air.

“Is mah... mah brother okay? Have yer heard anything from the hospital?”

Silence followed his words and Daryl felt anxiety and dread creeping up his spine. The door slammed open and he jumped, almost falling off his chair. The same officer that had come up to the car was there, walking into the room and sitting down.

He said nothing, which only made Daryl shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Merle..?”

“I’m sorry, you’re brother didn’t make it. He had a heart attack on the operating table.”

A sob escaped Daryl’s throat and he had to move to cover his mouth, sobbing. “N-No, yer lying. I know mah brother, mah brother made it.”

“Daryl... is that your name?”

He nodded, leaning forward to bury his face in his arms.

“Daryl, I need to ask you a couple of questions about the highway. I know that this is difficult for you, especially after such devastating news, but once you answer these questions, your Father is outside, ready to take you home.”

Slowly, he sat up, curling up as best he could. “I just wanna go home.”

“Alright then. Daryl, I’m Officer Grimes, you can call me Rick if you want to. What happened out there today?”

Daryl sniffed and wiped at his eyes, taking a few breaths. “I, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. I was sitting at the junction, ready to join the highway. My brother and I were playing with the radio – there was a... a news broadcast about a plane that crashed. He said, _put on Radio 616, bro, let’s have some rock for this road trip_ , and we put it on. An old rock song came on, one mah Pap used to listen to uh... _Die Mother Fucker Die_ , by Dope. I started feeling uneasy and then the 18-wheeler went shooting by. Made me feel really bad, moved mah elbow off the open window. A school bus went by and the kids on board were yelling _pile up, pile up_ ; my brother said I was being a wimp. I said something to him and then the next thing I know metal’s crunching and I’m seeing everyone fucking dying. The truck rolled and I was stuck on the left side, facing the road. I tried to get out but Merle was... Merle was dead.” Daryl stopped, trying to suck air into his lungs.

“When I went to get out of the front windscreen, the 18-wheeler came shooting down the highway. Next thing I know, I’m staring at the highway, ready to join it and I couldn’t breathe.”

Daryl looked up, noting how the officer wasn’t writing anything down.

“Alright, I think this was just some creepy coincidence. Either way, you saved a lot of people’s lives today.” Rick stood up and moved to open the door. “I think you’re going to need a lot of rest. Everything’s been explained to your Father. Go home, and get some rest, Daryl. I am really sorry for your loss.”

The male nodded and slowly stood, stepping out into the hallway. Silence fell and he looked up to see everyone there. The black woman with the dreads was observing him with a frown – a concerned one – whereas everyone else was looking at him with disgust or annoyance.

“Darl!”

“Paps!”

He turned and gladly threw his arms tightly around his Father, tears welling in his eyes once more. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Hey hey, ya saved a lot of people’s lives today, baby boy; yer got nothing to be sorry for.”

His Father lead him out the room, and to the waiting car outside the station.

xox

Daryl stared at the headstone in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

 _Merle Dixon_  
_23 August 1972 – 12 October 2011_  
_Beloved Son, Faithful Lover, Honest Brother_  
_May Heaven be everything you dreamed_

“Shoulda been me. If that Officer hadn’t of grabbed me-”

“Then I would be burying both o’mah sons.”

Daryl turned to look at his Father, breathing harshly. “I miss him, Daddy.”

“We all do, but he wouldn’t want us moping around. He’d want us to go out, shoot a buck and have a good ol’ broth.”

Daryl laughed weakly, moving to lean against his Father’s shoulder. “He’s watching us. I know ‘e is. He’s gonna be watching us and helping us to catch food and at least Mom has company now.”

Both men nodded before Daryl turned away. He sighed a little and glanced around, frowning when he saw the officer. “Hey uh, Dad. I’ll catch up.”

His Father frowned for a moment before Daryl moved over to the officer, who’s arm was around his son.

“Daryl, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“So yer said. Why yer here?”

He hesitated before he glanced down at Carl, nudging him. When the boy refused to speak, shaking his head and hiding in his Father’s side, the officer sighed.

“My son and I think that you’re in danger.”

Daryl snorted in disbelief. “I’m here burying my brother and saying goodbye to my best friend and yer gonna hit me with this shit?”

“This has happened before. There was a plane crash back in the 90s. A kid saw it explode just after takeoff, he and a bunch of friends got off just before because he _saw_ it. Again in ’03, a highway pile up. Then a rollercoaster crash. Then a crash at a NASCAR race.”

“So what?”

“So all the survivors began to die afterwards.”

“Get out of here.”

“Daryl-”

“I said, _get out of here_.”

Daryl glared at them before walking off, making sure to slam the door to his Father’s car loud enough for them to hear.

xox

Daryl tossed and turned, staring at his ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, visions of the highway haunted him, the sight of the mangled truck slamming against the wall flashed across his eye lids and he had to shoot upright, breathing heavily as he glanced around the room.

A car went by, illuminating his windows, casting shadows of the trees onto the white plaster paint. He frowned, watching twigs and branches turn into long skeletal hands, grabbing around the room and he sat upright, shaking his head violently.

His long hair stung in his eyes but he didn’t care.

Getting up, Daryl stumbled down the dark hallway, moving down the hall to come to the closed door nearest the stairs. Opening it, he peered into the room, feeling a rush of sadness roll over him.

He hadn’t been allowed in Merle’s room in months and, although he knew it would drive his brother insane – hell, he could almost _hear_ Merle screaming at him to shut the door – he stepped inside.

His NHL posters were on the wall, faded, torn, but Patrick Kane of the Chicago Blackhawks and Jamie Benn of the Dallas Stars loomed high around the room. Pucks from the games decorated his room and the odd beanie and hoodie decorated the desk and floor.

Moving across the room, Daryl collapsed into the bed, curling up and laying so he could smell Merle’s scent. Tears streamed down his face, and Daryl sniffed, slowly crying himself to sleep.


End file.
